


Save The Girl

by auroreanrave



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fix-It, Food, Minor James Bond/Q, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: The cabin is off the grid, quiet and comfortable and monitored only by Q who keeps it under lock and key.Eve drives Severine there, stopping on the long journey up north to stretch her legs and refuel on cheap bags of the kinds of sweets her mum used to give her and her brother loved on journeys. Cola cubes, jelly snakes, butter tablet so sweet it could give a cavity. Severine sleeps in the passenger seat, her face buried in a long scarf.Once they reach the cabin, Eve takes their bags inside while Severine falls asleep on the couch. Eve finishes unpacking their groceries and checks on Severine's head; the bullet wound is scabbing over, no blood, clean and good.





	Save The Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This is just a quick something I wrote this weekend after discussing Skyfall with some friends of mine and wanting to channel it into another fix-it fic, this time with some femslash and romance and recovery and all that wonderful stuff. The fic hints at severe trauma but never blatantly or openly discusses it in regards to Severine's background, so if you're triggered by that kind of stuff, tread carefully. There's also a couple of bits inspired by the excellent book/TV show Dietland. I really hope you enjoy this. Love you guys!

The cabin is off the grid, quiet and comfortable and monitored only by Q who keeps it under lock and key.

Eve drives Severine there, stopping on the long journey up north to stretch her legs and refuel on cheap bags of the kinds of sweets her mum used to give her and her brother loved on journeys. Cola cubes, jelly snakes, butter tablet so sweet it could give a cavity. Severine sleeps in the passenger seat, her face buried in a long scarf.

Once they reach the cabin, Eve takes their bags inside while Severine falls asleep on the couch. Eve finishes unpacking their groceries and checks on Severine's head; the bullet wound is scabbing over, no blood, clean and good.

Eve's under watch duty to protect her, an asset leftover from the Silva days. Eve's helped bury her boss and mentor, in shades of black and grey, and as much as she might protest for desk duty and the safety of her neat routine, she needs this rest as much as Severine.

"Thank you," Severine says, once she's bathed and dressed in the kind of silky, floaty clothing that Eve could never pull off. Eve has a massive stew going, tender beef and gravy, carrots and green beans and root vegetables, and its smell permeates the kitchen.

"No problem," says Eve, "I'm just happy you're feeling better."

They sit down for dinner, not speaking much but listening to the sound of Radio 3 on the tiny radio in the cabin. Severine trills fingers in the air as Eve ladles out the stew, commenting "I love Debussy," before tucking in.

Severine eats like a woman possessed, or rather a woman freed. She eats two helpings of stew and breaks into a loaf of bread to supplement her hunger. Eve watches her eat, watches Severine succumb to long-abated desires and needs and feels happier.

"I'm sorry," says Severine once she's finally done. She chews on a slice of bread, looking flushed and happy and sated. "I haven't - I mean."

"It's okay," says Eve. "Really."

Severine pauses, her hand on the stem of her water glass. "In the clubs, they never... you learnt to suppress your hungers. No one wants to pick someone too strong. Too healthy."

"I understand," Eve says, even though she can't, not really. What she can do is give Severine enough support and food and whatever else she needs in order to find her centre again. She's survived more than anyone should be capable of; she deserves a rest.

They spend the rest of the evening chatting and listening to music and eating the rest of the sweets Eve had bought on the car ride up. Outside an owl hoots and stars glimmer and when Eve checks on Severine, she finds her asleep in her bed, stretched out like a starfish, as if she is unused to taking up space.

 

* * *

 

Severine begins to recover.

She eats voraciously, devouring bacon and potatoes and parsnips and buttered toast by the round. She develops a taste for the Italian hot chocolate that Eve loves and has it three times a day and begins requesting food from the secure deliveries that Q arranges for them, veal and chocolate and ice cream and pasta. She begins cooking dishes herself, showing Eve delicacies and comfort food that she remembers her mother showing her before she was taken by the gangs or that she's seen on television.

They spend a lot of time reading books and watching films and avoiding anything remotely connected to the real world. Eve gets updates on her standard communicator, a palm-sized box that relays anything from Q or M. They read series of books, catch up on telvision series they've wanted to watch; no thrillers, plenty of comedies and romances. They develop a passion for Korean dramas and devour them with relish, boxes of chocolates in their laps. Eve herself gains weight and sleeps better than she has since joining the Service.

Severine still has nightmares. Eve waits outside her door until she calms for the first two weeks, eventually heading inside her room the weeks after, a cup of tea in hand and willing to sit with her and let Severine purge herself of her traumas, of her bad dreams, of the channels of pain she has running through her veins. She learns a lot more about Severine than any dossier could provide - the branding, the skills, the pain. How she learnt to seduce in seven languages at the age of fourteen and how it was two years too late. Eve learns about her secret desires to study, to learn everything she can about ancient civilisations and cultures, the mythologies, the languages, the people, melancholy colouring Severine's voice as she lulls off to sleep.

Eve orders an entire back catalogue of tomes for Severine thirty minutes later which arrive the next morning and Severine throws her arms around Eve, glowing with happiness.

 

* * *

 

Eve should have expected falling for her charge, really.

Severine is a beautiful woman through and through and everything she does seems elegant and magical and mysterious. Whether it's washing her hair in the oversized bath, singing along to the radio in mangled French, or reading books at the kitchen table, a pair of glasses perched at the end of her nose as she reads about the Egyptians or the Incans, she seems like Audrey Hepburn eating gelato on the Spanish Steps or Juliette Binoche behind the counter of a chocolate shop; intimate and elegant and cool.

It's this beauty that makes it impossible to say no to her. Any silly request, whether it be to play Scrabble in front of a black and white movie or to help her make cookies for the first time or to let her cheat the radio rota so Severine can listen to this one half-hour Rachmaninoff piece she loves.

"Could we go for a walk? To the forest?" Severine asks over breakfast, fruit and bacon and eggs in front of her, her hand on a glass of orange juice.

Eve finishes spreading marmalade on her toast and considers it. "I'm not sure. We'd need a lot of clearance. I don't think anyone is looking for you, but... I'm not sure if my bosses would like it."

"Could you ask?" Severine says and places a hand on Eve's. "I've never... it sounds silly. I've never been in woods before."

Eve nods and starts mentally composing the request she'll need as Severine tucks into her bacon.

 

* * *

 

The walk in the woods is peaceful and quiet, a sea of verdant green. Eve feels the steady pulse of the communicator against her wrist, Q keeping an eye just in case. It's a balm to her worries, her anxieties about looking after Severine.

"I love it," Severine says, her eyes wide. Her hair flows down her back in a waterfall of dark hair.

She looks like a forest goddess, Eve thinks, too beautiful to be real, and so it's a surprise when Severine tilts Eve's chin and kisses her, soft and sweet.

"I wanted this to be somewhere special," Severine murmurs softly.

Eve kisses her back and the sensation is cool and gentle and nourishing, like rainfall following a drought, like she's been waiting for this and it's a comfort to her soul. There's nothing but the sounds of the birds around them and a breeze and Eve has never felt calmer and surer in her entire life.

 

* * *

 

Q gives her a full report three days later, when Severine is having a nap in Eve's bed as rain and thunder clatter at the windows. He reports on the deaths of SPECTRE operatives across the globe following the capture of Blofeld; on the crime syndicates that have crumbled in his wake, on the schemes thwarted, on the countless lives saved by MI6. Eve feels a little guilty, as if her absence has been responsible for any delays in processing these changes, but Q refuses, sensing her distress.

"You've kept our most important asset safe," he assures her and Eve smiles into the webcam. "And, uh, happy. I would guess."

"Please tell me you weren't actually listening to that," Eve says, blushing and mortified, if not secretly thrilled to talk about this to another officer, one of her best friends.

"I wasn't not not listening. More like passive eavesdropping," he insists, his pale neck flushing scarlet. "But you're a rather cute couple."

Eve laughs into her mug and listens to him stumble through the rest of the report, an absurd warmth in her chest as she contemplates everything.

 

* * *

 

They get the official clearance a full month later.

M deigns to contact her himself, letting her know that her tenure as Severine's guard is over and that the pair are to return to London, Eve back to active service and Severine into protective custody, although minor at best, because everyone who could want her dead is themselves already dead.

"Sir," Eve says, unsure of which combination of words will best explain how Severine has gone from charge to friend to person she couldn't be without now, several months in.

"I understand, Moneypenny," M says, offering her a rare smile. "I daresay she'll be happy to remain in your protective service for a while, yes?"

Eve splits her face with a grin. "I believe so, yes, sir."

On a cool night before they leave, Eve stands on the porch and watches the stars come out, counting them as she wraps her hands around her hot chocolate. Severine approaches, becoming a warm presence at her back, Severine's lips kissing the knob of bone at the top of Eve's spine.

"It's a shame we have to leave," Severine says, voice tinged with uncertainty. Eve places the mug down to one side and pulls Severine's hands around her waist.

"This'll always be ours," Eve promises.

Eve knows the life they'll have down in London. Eve will stay behind her neat desk and her routines and work with M and James and Tanner and Q to crush the remains of SPECTRE that flee to the wind. Severine will find fulfilling, quiet work somewhere, maybe as a librarian where she can read all she likes and study for her degree in ancient history and speak kindly to children and attend therapy to try and come to terms with some of her trauma, even though she will carry it around with her, a healing wound still sensitive to the touch, even years later. James and Q will stop dancing around one another long enough to finally make a move and be infinitely happier as a result. Eve and Severine will share a house and spend nights finding new places to eat and listening to Debussy together and falling asleep pressed together, so full of love they'll barely handle it.

They watch the stars emerge together, a series of shining points of light that seem to herald the good luck heading Eve's way for once and which, if Eve looks closely enough, seem to point the way home.


End file.
